


horrid little disgrace

by Saralley



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Blood and Gore, Character Death, Ficlet, M/M, Not Suitable/Safe For Work, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:13:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23489635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saralley/pseuds/Saralley
Summary: A thing I found in my documents inspired by a comic that I don't remember.For the twisted minded.
Relationships: America/Russia (Hetalia)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 18





	horrid little disgrace

**Author's Note:**

> This was written in 2013. I just found it again. I only altered the grammar slightly and fixed some mistakes. Enjoy, or not.  
> I added the original notes for nostalgia's sake. I do no longer feel the shame I spoke off, maybe I read too many fanfictions by now xD

Right. So just sit still for a sec and let me explain this horrid little disgrace I have for you right here.

A few weeks ago, while fluttering around the internets as I so often do, I discovered a sort of comic strip thing by an anonymous artist, that I kind of fell in love with. I KNOW I REALLY SHOULDN'T HAVE, because it was messed up and dark and frankly grossly disturbing, but for some reason, I just… found it horridly beautiful. I can't find the original though, and the one I got was so small I can hardly see the speech. So here is a short fic adaption.

I'm sorry for any mental scarring this may cause.

…

The room was dark.

Dark, and heavy with the smell of vodka and sweat, of man against man, and bare, glistening skin.   
No windows, the only light a candle at the bedside. The mattress creaked beneath the two bodies twisting and heaving on it. The rusted bedsprings threatened to snap and spear the stained surface that showed the imprints of the bodies splayed out.   
Clothes, a heavy canvas coat and two pairs of trousers broke the carpet of dust on the floorboards; a scarf slung lowly from a crack up to the bed, looping around the neck of the man on the bottom and dripping across his collar luxuriously. Champagne hair, darkened in the thick mood of the space, clung to his hot, filmy face, his long-lashed eyes, flashing mauve gems, fluttering closed.

Above him, another man worked, naked but for the bomber jacket sliding down his shoulders, rasping his breaths as he found balance with his hands on the flat of his partner's chest. A man with blue eyes, lust heavy, and fogged glasses slipping down a gold traced nose. Hair the color of straw, mussed and tossed around a strangely distorted face. His expression, like that of looking in a cracked mirror, melted and moved in time with the way he hammered his body, riding the dick of the other fiercely, feeling it inside him, powerful and thick and hot, hot, hot.

"A-Amerika…" the man on the bottom clawed his hands, dragging them over the soft hips of him, Amerika, leaving searing red lines in their wake. The body of the other was overwhelming, heavy and wild, much too intense for even Russia´s strength. Ivan could feel bruises on his chest, from the hands braced there, and his hips and thighs were begging for mercy, wound to inhuman tension, throbbing, and burning.   
Amerika raised his eyes, letting his hand run down the body he mounted toward the spread of his own. His smile curled poisonously.

Russia. Laid out beneath, almost breaking. "I'm c-cumming…"

"Mm…" America lifted his hand, not easing his fucking. He had located his special, blossoming bud, and the delirious haze of pleasure it was instilling in him each time that cockhead ground over it, made him wild, starved, furious and burning with a fire so intense he wondered if Russia could feel it on his skin.

Alfred´s hand, still despite the quiver in the rest of him, slipped quietly and discreetly into his lapel. Beneath him, the other man jerked, nearing the brink, his broad shoulders flexed back and his scarred neck bared.   
Russia´s scarf slipped off and fluttered to the ground. Amerika slipped his weapon out of his pocket, clicked it, and took swift aim.

His finger clenched as his hips slammed down and Russia's hammered up, cum rushed into him in a glutinous ribbon and a crack tore the night. The candle flickered lowly in its pool of wax, preparing for its death.   
The wall behind the bed had turned into a gruesome display of slick, black blood, like ink in the low light of murder and glistening in the seeming, lustful way of a woman's eyes, hungering for sex. It was still hot in the room, and silent. Amerika's hands were wet and the sprinklings on his knuckles burned. His glasses too, were flecked with dark, guttering droplets of blood.

The candle floundered, drowning slowly and stuttering its last breath. Panting heavily, Alfred dropped the gun and brought his hands back, flat on Russia's chest. The motion slid the bodies meaty, still erect cock over that place in Amerika. His eyelids shuttered and he groaned in low, reverent pleasure. His twisted smile had barely pulled his lips before, with an inaudible pop, darkness thick and foul claimed the room.

And after a moment of silence, echoing in the solid walls of black, the slow bedsprings resumed their mournful, tormented squeaking to release.

…

JKSLKSÆAÆØF FAØLF LKSF SF FKÆAJLFL FKF FLKDLK! I am sorry you had to read that.

I don't own hetalia. I don't even LIKE RusAme…

*shame*

**Author's Note:**

> And I very much DO like RusAme by now...


End file.
